Friday evening found me walking along 4th. Street in Old Louisville after dark carrying two fifths of Patrón hand bottled tequila and a handle of Bacardi. Leiz was having an early 21st birthday party at her place. Drinking, dancing, and debauchery ensued in large quantities until the wee hours of the morning. A refreshing crowd of friends both old and new combined with lots of really good tequila made for a transcendental gathering. The sun rose on a floating keg, empty liquor bottles, an unfortunately shattered guitar, and several unconscious bodies, one of which was my own.

After a groggy full day of work, during which I nearly finished Deathly Hallows (nice!), I found myself celebrating Leiz's true 21st again on Bardstown Rd after midnight. During yet another deja vú bar hopping experience I made a fatal mistake. It wasn't the first time I have forgotten to close a tab. It was however the first time I had forgotten to close a tab for which the bartender kept my plastic prerogative. So this afternoon I ventured back over to Willy's. Still tattooed by several bar brandings and looking slightly disheveled, I wandered in to find the daytime bartender.

I located a gaunt, grey-bearded fellow waving his hands dramatically behind the bar. After he finished telling a profanity laden tale about being saved by Jesus Christ to his similarly grey-bearded Sunday afternoon regulars, I inquired about my debit card. While I waited I glanced around at my now daylit surroundings. As if in a parallel reality, hundreds of previously unnoticed details popped out around me. Seeing a dark, crowded bar under the influence of choice beverages is quite the inverse of seeing it nearly empty under sunlight and sobriety.